


In a Breath

by Huge_actman



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Burry Your Gays Trope, But at least it's gay angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt P. T. Barnum, Hurt Phillip Carlyle, I like killing, Kinda bloody I guess so if you're squeamish sit this one out maybe, M/M, No maybe that's worse, barlyle - Freeform, bisexual circus dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huge_actman/pseuds/Huge_actman





	In a Breath

Phineas Taylor Barnum, so passionate, so alive, so vibrant. So filled with joy and laughter and hope. Phineas, who had pressed Phillip to his chest to comfort him so often. Phineas, who knew how to speak to plants, could make them thrive with the merest touches, just like he could for Phillip. Phineas, who was now crumpled on the ground like a rag doll. 

Face pounded nearly to pulp, eyes swollen, bullet in his side. He was covered in ash, skin burnt and blackened, curling off in brown peelings to reveal cooked flesh beneath. His golden curls were singed, sticky with blood and ash. Phillip hardly recognized him.

"Phin- Phineas, wake up!" Phil crouches on the ground, not caring that the knees of his pants are soaking in Phin's still warm blood. He grabs the other man's shoulders and shakes them, then pulls Phineas into his lap. "Phin, love, wake up! Please." Phillip smacks Phin's cheeks, lightly, then harder, desperate now. 

Phillip fumbles to remove the charred remains of Phin's shirt and sucks in his breath at the sight of the bullet hole in his lover's upper abdomen. He wipes as much of the blood as he can, then uses strips of his undershirt to try to staunch the bleeding. The white fabric quickly blossoms with a spreading crimson flower.

Phin's eyelids flutter, and he draws in a deep breath, catching Phillip's attention. "Phin, can you hear me? I need you to wake up." 

Phillip was not a religious man. God had never done anything for him. He had given up prayers years ago, when he realized that God couldn't hear his cries every time his father beat him with the silver tipped cane. But now he bent his head over Phin's prone body and entreated God in heaven above to save this brilliant, beautiful man. 

["Let him live, God, let him live. I'll do anything. Anything. I'll go back to the castle. Do whatever my father says. Never look at a man again. Marry a woman. I'll do anything, just let him live."]

Phillip's eyes are closed, forehead resting against Phin's chest, when he feels Phin's calloused hand brush his knee.

"Phineas!" Phillip sits up quickly and grabs Phin's hand in his own. 

Phineas opens his eyes, tries to focus on the man leaning over him. "...'Lip," he breathes, and triggers a deep, violent cough that scrapes in his chest. Blood appears on his lips and dribbles out of his mouth. 

Phil wipes it away with the hem of his shirt and whispers, "Hey, hey. We'll get you out of here, you'll be okay. We can get you fixed up. You'll be okay."

Phineas coughs again, and curls into himself, moaning in pain. "Phil...I-" Phin closes his eyes for a moment and grits his teeth.

Phillip tangles his fingers in Phin's hair, trying to run them through it, but the blood and dirt caked in the previously silky curls makes it impossible. He settles for lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb over the other man's forehead. 

"You don't need to say anything love, just stay awake," Phil says softly. Phin opens his foggy hazel eyes at Phillip's words. "We'll get you fixed up in no time. You'll be alright, darling." 

Phin's eyes are far away, but his mouth twitches up into a small smile at that word. Darling. 

Phillip can remember when words like that had just begun to be used between them. First it had been for goodbyes. Call out to the retreating man's back, "Goodnight, dearest," then disappear in the opposite direction. Later though, they grew less shy. 

Phillip can remember when Phineas first offered him that word, 'darling.' How the perfect, comfortable weight of it felt on his ears, how the memory of it was a blanket of comfort in his mind, unfolded and examined with a smile when needed: moments of uncertainty, of loneliness late at night. The memory of that word in Phin's mouth was a balm for his wounds.  
He held it close to his heart. 

Even when the endearing nicknames became a part of every day, said as often as possible, they lost none of their power, none of their gentle, comfortable weight, nor their ability to make both men smile.

Darling, dearest, my sweet, my love. 

"No I won't." Phin's voice is merely a breath, and Phillip leans closer to catch all the words. 

"Yes you will, Phin-" a lump is growing in Phillip's throat, a hole in his heart that is enlarging into a black void of nothingness that will consume Phillip, mind and body, until there is nothing left but char and ash.

Phineas catches Phil's hand and, threading his calloused fingers through the other man's, presses it to his chest. "I won't. But promise me-" Phin's grip on Phillip's hand tightens, presumably because of a spasm of pain. "Promise me you'll keep going. No alcohol. No pills. Promise me you'll get away from them.” Phin's eyes have lost their glazed look, and are now focused on Phillip's, staring intensely at him, waiting.

"Phineas, we can get you to a doctor, you'll b-" Phillip speaks quickly, desperately. 

Phineas reaches up with both hands and roughly catches Phillip by his shirt collar. "Promise. Me," he all but growls at the babbling Phillip, stopping him mid sentence.

After a moment Phillip answers, "I promise."

Phineas releases Phil's shirt and falls back. Phillip leans over him, his face hovering inches away from Phin's. Phin speaks again, one last time.

"I love you, 'Lip." A faint, warm breath caresses Phillip's face.

"Oh, God-" Phillip whispers in a voice so shattered that it's sharp edges could slice through flesh. He cups Phin's face in his hands and kisses the other man's burnt lips, their shared tears mixing. Phin tastes of smoke and blood and himself. And death, Phil realizes with a shudder. 

Phillip's eyes are open during the kiss, and so are Phin's. The deep hazel pools of Phin's eyes widen briefly, then fade, the exuberant spark of life in them gone.

Phillip crumbles, shatters, all his walls falling down inside him. He breaks, irreparable. 

Nothing can bring Phineas back. CPR, chest compressions, yelling, stinging slaps on slowly cooling cheeks. Fervent prayers and tears. 

Nothing.

Phineas Taylor Barnum, a man so brimming with life, so vibrant and joyful and passionate, dead.

In Phillip's eyes, and in the eyes of the world, Phineas had been endlessly burning with an inextinguishable fire of immortality. Tall and broad, fierce, yet gentle. A man who could bring smiles and laughter to the most glum faces, joy, however brief, to the most damaged hearts. How could a man like this be extinguished so quickly? A life that was so much, gone, in a breath and a kiss.


End file.
